


Breaking Point

by MrSpockify



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Depression, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Therapy, gem physiology that I'm making up as I go, mild depictions of gore?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpockify/pseuds/MrSpockify
Summary: Everyone had warned him recovery would be hard. Connie had relayed information from her mom, saying that it might seem to get worse before it got better. That he might feel worse before he felt better. That he might even have to hit rock bottom before he could go up.ORSteven goes for a drive to clear his mind, but ends up making things much, much worse.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran & Steven Universe, Steven Universe & Everyone
Comments: 13
Kudos: 95





	Breaking Point

Everyone had warned him recovery would be hard. Connie had relayed information from her mom, saying that it might seem to get worse before it got better. That he might _feel_ worse before he felt better. That he might even have to hit rock bottom before he could go up.

Steven was pretty sure he was at that point now. The only problem was that he didn’t seem to be getting to that next part—the part where he was supposed to get better.

Right now he was in the Dondai, driving to nowhere in particular, something he had taken to doing lately. It was nice, usually. Calming. It got him out of the house, at least. It let him have space to be alone and think.

He was doing everything he was supposed to be doing. Twice a week, he went to therapy and relived every terrible thing that had ever happened to him. It never seemed to help. His therapist did her best to stay calm, keep her face neutral, but Steven could tell she wasn’t equipped to handle some of his problems. A fight with his dad? Sure, she could listen and give advice. A near-death experience with a ginormous alien in space? Yeah, not really any therapist’s area of expertise. And more often than not, Steven left her office feel like a hollow shell of a person. Like if someone even looked at him wrong he might crumble into dust and blow away.

But when he felt sad, or angry, or frustrated, or even mildly annoyed, he made sure to reach out to someone and share how he was feeling. His therapist said that was good.

Talking to his family wasn’t often helpful, though. They listened, they hugged, they cried, and sometimes they even made him feel a little better in the moment. But it was always temporary, and in the end it always made him feel a deep, gut-wrenching guilt that ate him up from the inside.

He was bringing everyone down around him. He didn’t want to keep stressing Connie out, because he knew it was hard for her not being able to make him feel better when he called her up during a 15-minute study break. And he always refused to take up any more of her time, hanging up on her more than once when she’d insist they could keep talking.

“You need to get back to studying, I know your schedule,” he’d say with a forced smile. She knew it was fake. He knew she knew that.

“Please, Steven, you’re important to me,” she’d reply. “Forget my study schedule. You need me.”

And that felt like a stab to his heart, because she was right. He did need her. But she couldn’t _do_ anything for him. She couldn’t make him better. All he was doing was taking up her time, making her fall behind in her studies, and stressing her out.

Then there was Amethyst, Garnet, and Pearl. When he was young he had wanted to be just like them—to make them proud. He had spent so long trying to be good for them that he didn’t know how to _not_ do that. He didn’t know how to share his feelings without feeling horrible. He didn’t know how to make them proud anymore.

And his dad—that was someone his therapist kept encouraging him to reach out to. But somehow it felt like the hardest thing to do. Steven felt like they were from completely different worlds, like his dad couldn’t relate to anything he had been through. And, honestly, that was probably true.

“That doesn’t mean he can’t listen or help,” his therapist would say.

But he can’t make it _better_. He can’t fix the _problem_.

And that was what it all really boiled down to: the problem. Steven realized the issue was that no one was equipped to help him because he had brand new problems. He was alone in the universe, a brand new type of person. Half-gem, half-human, completely unknown.

The diamonds would have been able to help him if it hadn’t been for his human half. Therapy would have been able to help him if it hadn’t been for his diamond half.

Steven kept one hand on the steering wheel, but his other drifted down to his stomach. His palm rested over his shirt where his gem was, cold even underneath the fabric.

There were two parts to him, and both of those parts were causing him problems that no one seemed to be able to handle. If he could just be like everyone else, with normal problems, he wouldn’t need twice weekly therapy and a whole collection of people on call to make sure he didn’t turn into a giant, pink _monster_ again.

His foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal, seemingly of its own accord, but Steven didn’t care. His fingers tightened slightly around the gem embedded in his body.

It reminded him of White Diamond, her long fingernails coming at him from above. It had _hurt_ , like knives sinking slowly into his stomach, gripping his gem and pulling pulling _pulling_ until finally he felt it slide out of him with a hot, sharp pain that left him throbbing from his core. But she had done it. She had separated the two parts of him, leaving each to its own. For once, he had just _one_ set of problems at a time.

Of course, both sets were still his. Both parts were still him. He could still recall both experiences, of being broken on the ground, aching as Connie carried his body over to himself. But he was on the other side of it, too, screaming and cracking the floor beneath his feet, eager to just reunite with himself again. The _problem_ —

Steven squeezed his gem, frustration boiling up.

—was that he was _two parts_. He was always going to have _two_ sets of problems. He just wanted to be normal. He just wanted to have a normal amount of issues. He just wanted to be _human_.

_CRACK_.

Steven gasped. A wave of fear shot through his entire body like electricity. Both hands returned to the wheel as he struggled to keep himself on the road, forcing himself not to do the stupid thing and slam on the breaks. Almost robotically, he pressed gently down on the breaks, pulling the car to the side of the road. His heart was in his throat.

What was that? _What was that?_

He put the car into park and undid his seatbelt with fumbling hands. His whole body had gone cold.

_Please_.

His fingers reached hesitantly to the hem of his shirt, trembling so hard he could hardly grab ahold of it.

_Please, no._

He lifted his shirt just enough to get a look at his gem. The familiar pink lulled him into feeling a brief moment of relief before he caught a glimpse of it. The deep crevice straight down the center of his gem, a few smaller cracks splintered out from the middle.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, hoping he might blink and find that he was mistaken. That he hadn’t _broken his own gem_.

His breath felt shallow, and somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind he heard his therapist’s voice saying something about belly breathing. But he couldn’t do that right now. He couldn’t think about breathing deep into his belly because that’s where his gem was. That’s where his _broken_ gem was.

“No, no, no, no,” he nearly whispered. “I can—I can fix this, it’s fine, I’m fine.” He lifted his hand to his face and stuck out his tongue. But of course his mouth couldn’t be drier than it was in this moment. He could almost laugh, but the panic quickly squashed that back down as he mustered up some spit.

He smacked his hand back onto his gem, waiting and waiting and waiting for the familiar sparkle of his healing. Nothing. He tried it again. And again. And again. After the fifth time failing, Steven could feel a knot forming in his throat, growing painfully until he couldn’t help but let out a wet sob.

He dropped his shirt back over his gem so he wouldn’t have to look at it. His body was beginning to ache, starting at his core and moving outward until his whole self, down to the tips of his fingers, was throbbing in pain. It felt so familiar, the agony of existing without the other half of himself, but last time he had people around him. Last time he even had _himself_.

Steven sobbed loudly, uncontrollably, finding it harder and harder to take in every breath.

He had never felt so alone in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> First Steven fic! SU: Future was just really personal and now I have to channel my feelings into this, I guess. 
> 
> I'm planning on about one more chapter, I just need to narrow down my ideas for what's actually going to happen. Thanks for reading!


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